started her. But I did not find one of the 

 little woodcocks, though I hunted for them 

 half an hour, and there were four of them, 

 probably, hiding among the leaves and grass 

 stems under my very eyes. 



The wonderful knowledge gleaned from 

 Natty Dingle's store and from the borings 

 in the swamp brought me into trouble and 

 conflict a few weeks later. Not far from 

 me lived a neighbor's boy, a budding natu- 

 ralist, who had a big yellow cat named Blink 

 at his house. A queer old cat was Blink, 

 and the greatest hunter I ever saw. He 

 knew, for instance, where a mole could be 

 found in his long tunnel, and that is some- 

 thing that still puzzles me, and caught 

 scores of them ; but, like most cats, he could 

 never be induced to taste one. When he 

 caught a mole and was hungry, he would 

 hide it and go off to catch a mouse or a 

 bird; and these he would eat, leaving the 

 mole to be brought home as game. He 

 would hunt by himself for hours at a time, 

 and come meowing home, bringing every- 

 thing he caught, rats, squirrels, rabbits, 



